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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486713">If Winter Comes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikikomochi/pseuds/hikikomochi'>hikikomochi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Punisher (Comics), The Punisher (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:07:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,675</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikikomochi/pseuds/hikikomochi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He assumed the guy had somewhere he really needed to be, considering how quickly he’d vanished from his line of sight. Red hair, suit, probing cane, and faint scent of cologne were all that Frank registered from the significantly brief encounter. Though, he wasn’t sure why he made a point to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Matt Murdock/Frank Castle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A small pile of snow started forming on Frank’s shoulders as he made his way through the brightly lit street. His thoughts, absent. As if vaporised by the sharp, fresh scent of the cold. He watched the pavement as he paced, glancing at his browning boots on the tinted white ground among various patterns imprinted by the average city folk, making their way to someplace for the evening or, like Frank, to work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, ‘scuse me. Sorry,” a pair of snow-smeared dress shoes said not a second after the owner grazed Frank’s side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No problem,” Frank muttered quietly, raising his gaze. He assumed the guy had somewhere he really needed to be, considering how quickly he’d vanished from his line of sight. Red hair, suit, probing cane, and faint scent of cologne were all that Frank registered from the significantly brief encounter. Though, he wasn’t sure why he made a point to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Between two buildings that shielded its occupants from light, Frank saw a familiar face illuminated by the screen of a smartphone and a little orange tinge from the end of a dying cigarette. Micro raised his apathetic gaze towards the approaching figure, shifting more of his weight to a large dumpster next to the staff entrance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whaddup, G?” He greeted. “Looking more </span>
  <em>
    <span>lost</span>
  </em>
  <span> than usual.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’re you doing out here? It’s freezing cold,” Frank said, ignoring the remark.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Taking a little smoke break,” Micro answered, the question reminding him to dump what was left of his cigarette. “Pretty damn stressful in there tonight. Jess’ in one of her moods.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frank sighed. “When is she not?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heh. Since when are you funny?” Micro grinned, eyes darting back to his phone. “Better get your ass in, Frank, or she’s going to find you out here. With me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take it easy, bud,” Frank said, lightly punching Micro’s bicep. ‘Lightly’, of course, to his standard as Micro winced in pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was much warmer inside the bar. Jessica always made sure it was as comfortable as she could, which one would think impossible given the harsh conditions of the aged building, and yet somehow Jess managed to dig out whatever charm it used to have. Unfortunately, that charm equally attracted shady customers as much as foreign tourists. None but one ever had any real problem, perhaps intimidated by the guys Jess hired for security; Luke and Danny. They were a… comedic pair. Hard workers. Okay in Frank’s book as far as he was concerned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Micro was not lying when he said Jess was in a bad mood, though, and it was made clear by how vigorous she was wiping the bar. Her gaze darted towards Frank in the middle of hanging his coat. Frank wasn’t scared of her, or was he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not late,” she said, one brow raised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And that’s a good thing… Right?” Frank shrugged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll let you off this time, Castle,” she retorted, turning away from the newly confused Frank.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Act Cool</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bar was decently occupied, not too bad for a Wednesday night but not particularly exciting. Frank watched a table of regular patrons chat away, blue eyes glossed with boredom. Micro was slumped in the corner, hidden away from the customers’ line of sight, possibly asleep but most likely on his phone. Jessica, not really having anything else to do, had decided to hang around Luke and Danny by the door. Frank sighed, taking a glance of his reflection on the glass he’d polished about two or three times.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, s’cuse me buddy,” a voice called out from the other side of the bar. A friendly faced, rather chubby gentleman in a suit waved at Frank’s direction. Behind him stood a taller man with a similar attire.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, what can I get you tonight?” Frank asked, walking over to the two customers. His eyes wander over to the red tinted sunglasses the taller man was wearing.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you please get us a couple a’ shots of tequila,” the chubby one chimed happily, making the tall one smirk.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, Foggy. What are we, college kids?” He said, chuckling.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, loosen up, Matt,” the one called Foggy said, nudging his friend. “We’re celebrating, that’s what we are!”</p><p> </p><p>Frank couldn’t help but grin at the sight of the two friends as he poured the liquor into the minuscule glasses. “You boys want lime slices and salt while you’re at it?”</p><p> </p><p>Matt laughed. “I think we’re good, er-”</p><p> </p><p>“Frank,” he answered promptly, shoving the two shot glasses towards the two men.</p><p> </p><p>“Keep a tab open for us, Frank,” Foggy sang, patting Matt’s shoulder. “The night’s young!”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure thing,” Frank said, folding his arms. “What’s the special occasion, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“We won a huge court case,” Foggy said.</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve been at it for months,” Matt added happily. “I don’t want to bore you with the details, but a landlord refused to replace old air conditioners, they practically blew out toxic air. The whole apartment block wanted to sue, and long story short, we won.”</p><p> </p><p>“A little less than five grand. Not too bad for a couple 'a guys sharing a dinky office,” Foggy nodded proudly.</p><p> </p><p>“Most importantly, Foggy, justice was served,” Matt said with full awareness of how cheesy he was, turning to his friend with the shot glass between his fingers.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll drink to that,” Foggy raised his glass and tapped it on Matt’s.</p><p> </p><p>Frank was never one to drop his grim persona, especially in front of any crowd that dwelled around his bar. Yet for some reason, he couldn't find a reason to stop grinning; he wasn’t sure if it was because of how pure the pair of lawyers seemed to be compared to the rest of the bar denizens, or if it was just because of this Matt fellow, who he hasn't stopped staring at. He watched the pair down the tequila, amused by the faces they pulled afterwards.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell you what,” Frank began, lightly smacking the bar. “Next round’s on me. What’re you having?”</p><p> </p><p>“Heh. You don’t have to, Frank,” Matt said bashfully, his pale face already flushed slightly from the liquor.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, I insist,” Frank shrugged. “Think of it as a… thank you. For helping all those people, y’know?”</p><p> </p><p>Matt turned to Foggy and Foggy shifted his eyes slightly at Matt, a smile grew on their faces in sync.</p><p> </p><p>“Couple a’ your best beers would be nice,” Foggy said.</p><p> </p><p>“Coming right up,” Frank said, pacing over to the fridge.</p><p> </p><p>Next to it, tucked away in the shadow next to the fridge, Micro scoffed. The creases of his smugness was emphasised by the white light emitted by the phone in his palm. Frank’s smile immediately diluted away into his default irritated scowl.</p><p> </p><p>“So which one are you trying to get with, huh? My money’s on the carrot top.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up,” Frank mumbled, trying to focus on the beers while pretending Micro wasn’t sniggering at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Anyway, let’s forget about your sharply dressed man crush for a sec ‘cause the ice machine’s acting up again.”</p><p> </p><p>“So what, it’s my problem?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why else would I be telling you this, Frank?”</p><p> </p><p>Frank rolled his eyes and huffed a quiet, irritated groan, handing both bottles to Micro before he made his way to the staff entrance. “Pain in my ass,” he mumbled.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry, I’ll get you his number!” Micro said loudly, perhaps loud enough for the two lawyers to catch. </p><p> </p><p>If there had been any small object nearby Frank could toss at Micro, he would most certainly take the chance to. Unfortunately, all Frank could do was power walk to the cellar and make sure the door was shut behind him. Once he was sure there was nobody else in the room, Frank facepalmed loudly; brows furrowed and cheeks tinted red from embarrassment. If it were up to him, he would never leave the cellar.</p><p> </p><p>It was always the same problem with the ice machine, the damn thing was hanging by the thread. Frank was convinced that it was older than the building itself, and Jessica was just too cheap to find a replacement. There's no reason to throw it away as long as it made ice, Jess would always say. Funnily enough, she kept a wool blanket nearby solely for her staff whenever they’d have to fix the ice machine. Winter and a cellar not being the ideal combination, Frank draped it over his shoulders, feeling the comfort of it for just a second before getting right back to work. </p><p> </p><p>Between the bits and bobs, his mind started to wander, mostly to whether or not Micro was joking about getting the lawyer’s number. Would he even… go on a date with a lawyer? This Matt guy seemed pretty genuine about helping folks out, unlike other lawyers or law enforcers Frank knew. Anyway, he wasn’t even sure if this guy was into dudes. And it was probably too late to ask. Frank felt like he’d dug a grave for himself, or actually, Micro did. Micro’s going to pay. Unless he really got Frank the lawyer’s number, then they’re cool.</p><p> </p><p>A droplet of condensation reached a warm finger, upon the green tinted glass was Matt’s distorted reflection. He raised the bottle up to his lips as he stifled a laughter, entertained by his friend’s antics. Foggy shoved his fourth empty bottle to the side, a satisfied smile left between his flushed cheeks. As the duo fell into a comfortable silence, Matt turned his head to the vague direction of the cellar door.</p><p> </p><p>“Is he back yet?” He asked, a soft tone of concern in his question. “It’s been a while.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who?” Foggy asked, furrowing his brows in confusion.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, Frank. The really nice bartender.”</p><p> </p><p>“What, you think he died down there or something?” Foggy teased, chuckling.</p><p> </p><p>“It is pretty damn cold in the cellar” Micro interjected casually, eyeing the door to the cellar. "Did you know hypothermia can kill a person in 15 minutes? Scary stuff."</p><p> </p><p>The smile on Matt’s face dropped, not quite transforming into a frown yet, but the concern in his words had spread to his expression. He stepped down the stool clumsily, abruptly realising how much alcohol was in his system. His knuckle was only a few inches away from the cellar door when it opened, the chill catching Matt off-guard as his own presence caught Frank off-guard. As the mist of cold air drifted out of the cellar, the two stood stark still only for a moment, taking a split second to perhaps register what was going on. The ambient noise of the bar patrons filled the silence between them, the creek of the cellar door eventually stopped when it reached the latch.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh,” was the only thing that managed to escape Frank’s lips.</p><p> </p><p>“I... thought you froze to death,” Matt blurted out quietly, laughing to himself and shaking his head.</p><p> </p><p>“What?" Frank responded, chuckling a little bit in confusion. "Are you okay?"</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, yeah. Peachy,” Matt responded, nodding too confidently. "Your colleague might have mentioned some morbid-- you know what, don't worry about it. I just get a little antsy when I have a little too much to drink."</p><p> </p><p>Frank raised his gaze to the bar, where Micro stealthily gave him a thumbs up and a smile. If only he had a throwable object at his reach.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” Frank said, his attention coming back to the man in front of him. “Well, let me know if you want another drink or anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, yeah. No. Actually, I think we’ve had enough,” the lawyer scoffed, turning towards the bar. “Sounds like my friend’s starting to reach his limit. I think we should just wrap up and get out of your hair.”</p><p> </p><p>“You want me to call a cab?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, we both live close by.” Matt waved his hand. “We’ll be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>The bartender raised a brow, turning his attention towards the dimly lit street outside the bar. Dark clouds hovered over the city, ever so gently spewing heavy snowfall onto the empty pavement. How long had it been since Frank cared about the wellbeing of a total stranger, he thought silently to himself, watching Matt as he tapped his probing cane on the wooden floor. The corners of Frank's lips shifted into a frown as he savoured the few seconds he had before something stupid was about to happen.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey," Frank called out, catching the lawyers' attention. "Come on. I'll walk you guys home."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sting Like a Bee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hell’s Kitchen had a lot of bars and underground clubs. It was always lively at night, even more so than the rest of New York. However, the cold powdery mass piling on the pavement had kept the rebellious youths from roaming the street at night. There was something sad yet beautiful about the empty, blue tinted concrete jungle, lit dimly by the orange street lights and neon colours emitting from cheesy shop signs. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Frank’s blue eyes wandered back to Matt. The light made his skin seem paler even with flushed cheeks, his fiery red hair stood out from the greyish shades of the buildings behind them. Frank had momentary glances over Matt’s pale eyes as they darted vaguely towards the subtlest noises. Asking him about his blindness would perhaps be stepping over boundaries, he thought. He started to wonder if he even had a chance to get to know him, just a little bit. But the chances of him ever seeing Matt again was slim. New York was a big city occupied by busy people, and that included the two of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, Frank,” Foggy began, waking Frank up from his daydreams as the lawyer stumbled noticeably. “What d’you do for a living?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s a bartender, Foggy,” Matt reminded him. “Wow, you are way worse than I thought.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Foggy scoffed it off, waving his hand. “So were you a bartender since the beginning of time? Come on, tell us your life story.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t listen to him,” Matt said profusely, turning towards the bartender.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nah, nah. It’s alright. I’ve had plenty of drunk customers ask me that before,” Frank said, shrugging. “Worked in private security. And before that, I was in the military. Served in the Middle East a few years back. Wasn’t as exciting as you’d think.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two lawyers looked at him with surprise and perhaps a bit of admiration. Foggy sheepishly raised his right hand for a salute, earning a light chuckle from Frank as he shook his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I used to box,” Matt chimed in, immediately catching Frank’s attention. “But since the accident, all I ever did was study. So I got myself into law school, and that’s where I found this person-sized mess.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Matt made a noise as Foggy’s elbow made contact with his side. “You were scared and helpless before I met you, Murdock, like a small wounded animal. Show some gratitude.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two merry men continued onwards with shared giggles and laughter, accompanied by their quiet designated sober person who would occasionally join the conversation. Matt’s place was a few blocks further than Foggy’s, and usually Foggy would walk him down (despite protests). Though, with Frank generously walking them, Foggy allowed himself to leave his friend in the sturdier hands of their bartender for the night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t give the poor guy <em>too</em> much trouble,” Foggy said jokingly to Matt before heading in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a thin smile still on his face, Matt began walking to a direction. Frank tailed him close behind, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat as the night chill finally reached him. He glanced up at the sky to watch gentle little flakes faltering to the ground, billions of them filling the light-polluted skies of New York. He almost ran into Matt’s back, not realising that he had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You alright?” Frank asked, stepping to the side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Matt answered softly. “It’s been snowing a lot lately, I bet it's beautiful.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Frank watched the flakes of snow floating down and melting onto the warm palm of Matt’s hand, a small white cloud forming in front of the redhead's smile. There wasn’t another stranger who could make Frank feel the way he did. Love at first sight is bullshit, but he might have found an exception. Though, he didn’t just want to be in love with the idea of this Matt Murdock fellow, he had a desire to be in this person’s life. To slowly but surely fall in love with whoever the real Matt may be. Frank couldn’t bear to form a smile on his stern lips, wishing for something so hopelessly melancholic. They were just strangers fated to never cross paths again, he thought silently to himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re awful quiet,” Matt commented, walking once more. “Are you still there?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry,” Frank responded apologetically. “Wouldn’t leave a blind guy to fend for himself in a night like this. Don’t worry.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, I’m tougher than I look,” Matt said with a chuckle. “The snow makes it harder to hear footsteps. It’s a weird thing to say, but you barely make any sound when you move around. You were the first person to catch me off guard back in the bar, it wasn’t just ‘cause I’ve had a few drinks.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wise man once said ‘float like a butterfly’,” Frank said, shrugging.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Matt scoffed. “Do you sting like a bee too?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If someone’s asking for it, sure,” Frank answered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good answer,” Matt declared. “Army guy, huh? I’d like to know how good you are.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You sound like you wanna get punched,” Frank said in jest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What makes you think you can land one on me?” Matt retorted with a smirk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You really want me to hit you?” Frank raised a brow, a mix of intrigue and confusion written across his expression.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m asking you to try,” Matt said confidently, stopping to face Frank. “Come on, I dare you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Matt was a drunk, blind lawyer asking to get punched in the middle of the night in Hell’s Kitchen. Frank, of course, hesitated. Any other schmuck, he would take all the chances he got. But this was Matt; a very nice stranger he would like to get to know more. Although, his curiosity completely outweighed the voice of reason quietly yelping in his head. Matt was acting very, very cocky about this, and Frank became very, very curious about why that was. Plus, if he was honest, if he wasn't in any way interested, he would totally smack that smug little smirk off of Matt's face no question. He made loose fists as he positioned himself into a fighting stance, watching Matt, who was not reacting at all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t hold back,” Matt said, his smirk growing into a grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Of course Frank was going to hold back, though as he lunged forward with a left hook, he was immediately blocked by Matt’s arm. And out of nowhere he felt a soft impact on his chin, only realising it was Matt’s right fist a split second after. This guy was fast, Frank thought to himself, impressed and also a little bit freaked out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whoa,” Frank couldn’t help but say, taking a step back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I told you not to hold back,” Matt said, spinning his probing cane back into place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, you sure you’re really blind?” Frank asked half-jokingly, earning a laugh from the other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Very,” Matt said, taking a deep breath in victory. “Thought I ought to learn how to defend myself a long time ago. This part of New York isn’t exactly friendly, and I can’t rely on other people all the time, you know.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Whatever happened was still way above anything any normal blind person could do. There was no way Matt could have done that purely with training. Something was different about him, maybe even special. Whatever it was only drew Frank closer, more curious about the growing mystery around this stranger.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Frank looked at the apartment building on his side, recalling the address the two had previously given him. There was a wash of sadness in his gut, knowing that what little time he had with this stranger would soon be finished. He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if he dared to ask for a number in the hopes of trampling his own pessimistic belief. What would be the chances of the other agreeing to that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’re here,” Frank said after a few seconds of staring at the same street name and number. “Guess this is you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, right,” Matt responded, the brilliance of his grin seeming to have died down a bit. He stood for a few silent seconds, gripping on his cane as he cleared his throat. Perhaps Frank was reading into it too much, but the hesitation in Matt’s body language gave him the tiniest spark of hope. “Do you wanna come in and wait out the snow?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yes. Yes! But God damn it, he had been gone for more than thirty minutes. If he decided to stall any further, Jessica might actually kill him. Or worse, cut his pay for the month.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have to go back to work,” Frank said one of the heaviest, most difficult strings of words he has ever had to form. He disguised his grimace with a bitter chuckle, which Matt possibly caught.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I guess you do, huh,” Matt said, almost sounding as disappointed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well. I’ll see you around,” Frank said, turning around melancholically until he was stopped by a cold touch on his bicep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Could you, heh, at least tell me if you came back safe,” Matt said, uncharacteristically nervous. “With a weak punch like that, I wanna be sure you’re back in one piece. I can... give you my number.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was one of the moments Frank had to reinforce his rock-like persona to not look like some kind of nerd who was ecstatic to receive his crush’s number.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure,” was the only thing to come out of his mouth, though his voice was possibly a few octaves higher than usual. And he was pretty sure Matt caught that based on the small twitch on the corner of his lips.</p>
<p> </p>
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